Chapter 2

The city felt different back then. It was my father' s city. He was the Don, a legend whispered in every corner of New York' s underworld. He doted on me, his princess, but he also showed me the steel beneath the velvet. He taught me strategy, ruthlessness, and the simple, brutal truth of our world: power is the only thing that matters.

Caleb wasn't part of that world. He was the secret, the shame-my father' s son with a low-level associate. I found him when he was just a boy, skinny and terrified, getting beaten in a back alley by thugs who knew his parentage and despised him for it.

He was bleeding from his lip, his eyes wide with fear. I saw him not as a brother, but as a tool. A perfect piece of clay I could mold.

I took him in. I cleaned him up, fed him, sent him to the best schools. I gave him a life he could never have dreamed of. And with every gift, I tightened my grip. I nurtured his dependence on me, his need for my approval. I saw the darkness in him-the paranoia, the violent streak-and I let it grow, watering it like a precious, poisonous plant. He was my weapon, and I was sharpening him.

When my father died, the wolves came out. Every rival family, every ambitious captain, saw a chance to tear his empire apart. A bloody power struggle erupted on the streets. They all underestimated me. The Don' s daughter. A woman.

They never saw me coming. I had a network my father left only to me-a secret crew of enforcers, loyal to the death, and a fortune hidden away from everyone. One by one, my rivals disappeared. Some died in shootouts, others in car bombs. Some just vanished.

When the dust settled, the city was quiet. I walked a teenage Caleb into the center of the room, in front of all the remaining captains. I put my hand on his shoulder and introduced him as the new Don. He was the face. I was the power. It was the perfect arrangement. Or so I thought.